Sanguine Veritas
by Trogdor19
Summary: More satisfying spin off from the blood-sharing scene in 04x02 Memorial. What if vampires could taste your true nature in your blood? Would it bring you peace or sorrow? Would it help Elena to figure out who she was supposed to be with? Would it help Stefan and Elena find their peace with each other? *Spoiler* Delena!
1. Understanding

_Author's Note: The title is Latin, roughly translated as Truth in Blood. This starts during the scene in 04x02 Memorial where Damon shares his blood with new vampire Elena. When the scene cuts out on the show, this story keeps going, albeit in a totally different (better!) direction. Warnings for explicit sex and adult language. I don't own the Vampire Diaries or its lovely characters. _

_I found Damon's theme song: Gavin DeGraw's Soldier. Damon would give me a dirty, dirty look if he knew I'd said that, especially if he heard the tune, but the words are just right. A sample:_

_**I'll get it, if you need it.**_

_**I'll search, if you can't see it.**_

_**If you're thirsty, I'll be rain. **_

_**If you get hurt, I'll take your pain.**_

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

I am shaking with hunger, so I don't realize until he locks the door behind us that Damon has just pulled me into the bathroom. I'm alone with him, which is the exact situation I have been avoiding since my transition. I couldn't always trust myself around him as a human. As a vampire, I figured it was better not to risk it.

"What are you doing?" I ask nervously.

I can't keep animal blood down, and I'm afraid to feed off a human, and I really fail to see how being alone in a locked room with Damon Salvatore is going to solve either of those problems. I chose Stefan, but I knew that wouldn't automatically cool off what was between Damon and I. Hell, a firehose couldn't do that. Which made it all the more important, with my volatile new nature, to be nowhere near him.

"Giving you what you need," he says shortly.

Is he really crazy enough to think we can just have sex right now?

It isn't until he bites into his hand that I realize for once he didn't mean something in a sexual way.

The blood welling up into his palm distracts me from the blush starting in my cheeks. My mouth goes dry and tingly as my hunger accelerates into starvation.

"Drink," he growls.

"What?"

Vampire blood? Would that work? Would it help? I can't look away from his hand and I'm fully aware that I'm not thinking clearly, but that doesn't make me able to do anything about it.

"You're a new vampire Elena; you need warm blood from the vein. Maybe this will do the trick."

I'm shifting back and forth, unable to keep still. I'm starving for blood, but what pools in his offered palm doesn't just smell like blood. It smells like Damon and that makes it twice as dangerous.

"Or not. Just don't tell Stefan."

That rang alarm bells even through the fog of bloodlust.

"Why not?"

Damon's eyes lock onto me with an intensity that is too intimate for what we are allowed to have together. "Because blood sharing is kind of…"

God, the smell of him is incredible. I am going to have to drink or run, but I can't keep myself still for a second longer.

"…personal."

"What do you mean it's personal?" I manage to ask, knowing that even if I don't care right now, I should care.

"Just drink!" he half-shouts and I remember how worried he's been about me since my transition.

The last bit of my conscience that I can still hear over my raging hunger whispers that he may not want to do this with me, that he's just offering because he is scared that I'll starve. I search his face, looking for hesitation, but there is none. Just desire. He wants me to do this.

He nods once and nothing else matters. If it did, I doubt I could hold back anyway.

I take his hand, at least trying not to be an animal about it, and bring it to my mouth as slowly as I can bear.

It feels so good to give in, to let my fangs lengthen into their true form. It feels good to bite him, my canines pushing into his flesh even though I don't need to let out more blood. He's already given me what I need. As usual.

It's funny that as much as I have been obsessed with blood lately, needing it and not wanting to need it, that I'm not prepared for the taste. I guessed it would taste like the blood of that guard: like scratching an itch. Coppery, a bit dusty. Necessary.

Damon's blood tastes wild. The predator in me is singing.

He tastes wild, and gentle. Sweet edged with tartness. Dark chocolate spiced with wine. Sharp teeth and hard, protective hands. The scent, the feel of his skin, all the contradictions of him pouring into me, moving through my throat, my veins.

I'm never going to get enough of this, of him. I'm so far gone I don't even consider what that means.

I feel the jolt as we stagger back into the wall, both of us too caught up in each other to maintain balance in something as unimportant as legs.

Sex and confidence, loneliness and uncertainty.

My body curls naturally into his chest, his big hand stroking my hair as if we're embracing, as if we're giving and receiving love instead of blood. Maybe we are.

His hand on my hair pulls at something deep in my belly, makes my scalp come alive with tingling. The brush of my forehead against his throat and his jaw is as bright and intense as sex.

His touch and his blood are a protection spell, drugging all my new fears about being a vampire into complacency.

A vampire is what Damon _is_. He will help me. He won't let me fail at this. He never forsakes me, in the end.

It feels so _good _not to be scared that I'm going to hurt someone, or be disgusting. Damon won't be repulsed by what I am now. I wonder why the ferocity of my feeding is making him so gentle and I'm glad that I'm feeding, that I _need_ to feed so I can pretend I don't know how he's holding me. I can pretend I don't want him to touch me like he is.

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

I'm quivering with how good, how _right_ this feels and that is obscene considering the reality of what I'm doing.

This is the pity fuck of blood sharing. It's a crumb I'm throwing myself because a moment is all I can get. I've offered myself to this girl dozens of ways and this one is going to end the same as all the rest. She's going to give me one wide-eyed look of scared confusion and then she's going to take off because what I'm offering is either not enough or too much for her.

I wish I knew which it was. I wish I didn't care.

I shudder with the sweetness that pours through my body, unaffected by my dark thoughts. My hand tightens in her hair.

It took me a long time to get why it feels so good to have your blood taken like this. Mostly because I didn't think about it, I just enjoyed it. It was Andie, of all people, who told me the truth about it. It's a heady thing, to be fully understood. It's intoxicating.

It's better when the person doesn't ditch you afterwards.

It's intimate because what you are is written in your blood and vampires can taste it when they feed. Because vampires are so much _more_ than people, it is like reading a newspaper in bold, large type. When you drink human blood, the same truths are written, but lightly, with small letters and vague sentences.

That's why killing is so enticing. It is what cannibalism was always meant to be. You're consuming another person in the fullest sense of the word.

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

Maybe it is because he is giving it to me to save me, from death and guilt and myself, but Damon's blood tastes of love. I don't know if it is his or my own. I'm afraid it's both. I'm terrified it's both.

His blood is lighting up my whole body when I thought it was already burning unbearably bright.

I feel like I opened my eyes for the first time directly into the sun, only instead of being blinded by it, I can see the details, the wretched beauty that humans can't handle, can't hold. Can't bear.

I can see Damon better with my eyes closed, with his blood in my mouth, my stomach, my veins, than I could ever see him when I looked at him. He is everything I couldn't face or accept or even conceive of last week when I'd made that terrible, cruel phone call to tell him my choice was made.

My head is spinning and I lean a little closer to him, balancing against his body. My hip encounters his arousal and my eyes fly open. He's huge and hard. I can feel his heartbeat pulsating in his penis through his jeans, through my jeans. I've felt this part of him only one other time, in Denver when it felt like I was going to have to crawl inside of him to get close enough.

My head says I shouldn't feel this part of him, that I need to stop this and run while I still can, but I'm still feeding. My tongue tastes of sex, dirty and beautiful.

Deliciously forbidden fantasies run through my head. Damon, naked in the foyer of the boarding house, smiling arrogantly at me, his muscles adorned with bubbles from his bath. His tongue against my nipple, the lips of my sex, his body holding me hard against a wall, not softly in his arms as he is now.

Him bending me over a couch, a table, a sink and stabbing his cock into me as hard as I want him to. His fangs in my neck, the vein in my inner thigh, his tongue in my mouth, his hands on my body, twined in my hair as I stretch my lips around his cock.

My panties are drenched and I have to get this under control right away or I know where I will end up and that will only hurt all of us more in the end even if right now it would make me feel so, so good. Better than food or breathing. Better than a ring that lets me walk in the sunlight. Better than blood.

The only way I make myself stop is that I don't deserve the gift of his blood after what I've done to him.

I run my tongue over his palm, savoring one last taste like I am condemned. I pry my body away from his. I don't dare look at him, even for a second. I'm in more danger alone with Damon than I was in that whole room of mortal, fragile humans with my bloodlust running wild.

I pull away from his kind hands and those overwhelming glacier-blue eyes. I spin to face the wall, pressing my palms against it so hard that I can feel the tiles bend against the force of me. I push my forehead against the tiles too, trying to shackle myself to the safety of this inanimate surface.

In Denver, it was unbearable, wanting him. Resisting him, impossible. Now with heightened everything, I'm lost, and I do what I always do when I'm lost.

"Damon, I need your help."

He's turned to stay close and though no part of him touches me, I can feel him _everywhere._ He stands just behind me, the distance between our skin calibrated and cataloged to the millimeter by my overly efficient vampire brain and senses.

"What do you need, Elena?" The emphasis on the word need is so slight I wouldn't have heard it a week ago. The velvet whisper of his tone licks me and I shiver from head to heels.

"Stop me. Don't let me…"

"Don't let you what?"

His word choice has my traitorous mind playing high definition images of leather straps and chains and submitting, submitting to whatever he wants me to do, whatever he wants to do to me.

My tongue is dry as dust and it tastes of _him. _I can smell him on my lips.

His hands slide over mine, his skin rasping against mine in a symphony of sensation. Our hands press together against the wall. No other part of us touches.

My unsubtle vampire emotions are cutting through my confusion in one way: I know, for absolute certain that I want Damon, in more ways than I want to want him. I just wish the loudspeaker of my heart would let me know what the hell I am supposed to do about it.

I need to babble, to make a speech explaining why we can't do this now, to make him understand so he can stop me because if he doesn't understand he won't help and asking Damon to help me resist him is like asking kerosene to put out a fire.

But to talk I need to be able to breathe and I can _not._

Maybe if I hold very, very still, he will do things to me and I can pretend I'm not responsible, that it isn't my fault. That it wasn't _my_ willpower that flatly refused when I asked it to keep me away from Damon.

My eyes are closed and I reach deep inside myself, past my crazed maze of desires, past my responsibilities and all my ideas of right and wrong and I try to remember who I am.

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

My body hovers just behind hers. She is silent, but the heaving of her breath and the frantic drum of her heartbeat fill my ears.

It is an impressive measure of her resolve that we aren't both naked while I take her right here against the wall. She is incredibly turned on.

I'm not surprised. I'm not even particularly flattered. I've known since the day we met that she was physically attracted to me. I wonder cynically if she would think the perfect man was Stefan's mind in my body. She doesn't have the same response to him, and he knows it. It is impossible to lie to vampire senses about something as basic as attraction. It's major fuel for his rage and jealousy toward me, though I doubt he's ever brought it up to Elena. How emasculating that would be.

Not quite so bad, I think, as knowing that she wants to jump me and is making a literally superhuman effort _not_ to because she doesn't like who I am as much as how I look.

Still, my heart is cut clean out of my chest by the intimacy of the blood sharing, and all the cynicism and sarcasm in the world aren't enough to convince me to step away from her yet. My body leans toward hers as if we are held here by something stronger and more basic than bloodlust, against the best interests of our emotions, our futures, ourselves.

"Don't let me touch you," she breathes, finally, the sweetness of her voice making acid irony of her words.

"Why would you ask me that, Elena?" My voice is like a whip, cracking against her skin. Maybe if I pour all my cruelty, all my bitterness into it, that will release the hold she has over me and let me step away. Maybe even leave this room under my own power before she has a chance to run from me. Again.

I'm probably not that lucky.

"Because you're my friend," she says achingly.

There might be a God after all, because that does it. I manage three steps away, nearly all the way to the opposite wall, blistering her back with my eyes.

"I may not have many friends, Elena, but I do know that a real friend isn't someone who only shows up when they need something from you."

She turns at that so I see her expression change, a different part of her nature taking over and her inner bi-polar vampire stoking this new fire to the same heights as the old.

I know what she's about to say. I was right the first time. There is no God. This is pure devil. Pure demon temptation and I have long been a sinner.

"Do you want my blood?"

"What?" I'm stalling, hoping that my body at least will recognize the trap and see itself out the door since my brain and my penis are perfectly happy to stay in here, letting her torture me.

She holds out her wrist in treacherously innocent generosity, her earth-colored eyes earnest.

"You gave me your blood. You're right. I always take from you. I never give back. Let me give you something back."

"Why?" My voice rasps like someone has been cleaning my esophagus with a wire brush.

"Yours tasted-," she swallows. "Good. Maybe mine will taste good to you. I know you're not hungry like I was hungry, but you're right."

Her eyes are full of guilt. Man, did I push the wrong button. That was the missile launch button, not the ejector seat. My mistake, and I'll go down in flames for it in more ways than one.

"I've been selfish too many times with you," she says.

I wonder, now that the compulsion has worn off, if she remembers my words and she just twisted them to deliberately hurt me.

_I love you. That's why I can't be selfish with you. _

Is it possible that this is actually Katherine impersonating Elena? No, even Katherine can't do a mind-fuck like this. To cut this deep, you have to be totally unaware of the evil of your actions, so you can't be blamed for them, no matter how terrible they are.

So all the hatred I can muster to fight this hurt festers in my own chest, at my own lack of self-preservation for keeping me in this room with my own walking, talking Kryptonite.

"God, I didn't even say anything, did I?" she says in horror, her hand coming up to cover her mouth, which she's already licked clean of my blood. The thought of that makes my crotch throb uncomfortably, even in the midst of all of this.

"When you kicked me out of Ric's seat, I didn't tell you how sorry I was, or ask how you were doing." Her eyes fill with tears. "I don't need to kill anybody. I'm already becoming a despicable person."

Oh damn it. Her tears kick my casual persona back into gear, and I can be thankful for that at least. "Nah. I'm just being a dick," I tell her. "Don't take it personally. No one else does."

"No," she says fiercely. "You're not. You're trying to take care of me, like you always do. Even when I'm too focused on my own needs to support you after you lost your best friend."

I shift uncomfortably. I may have impulsively sent her on a guilt trip, but she's not the only one being selfish. I know my blood won't help her. Vampire blood is tasty, but it's like water. It'll fill you up, but it doesn't give you what you need. I was just being…fuck, I don't even know.

The time when I am going to have to force Elena and Stefan to deal with the facts of life and vampire nutrition is coming very soon. Fortunately, I was born to play bad cop. If it was any more cliché, Stefan would be blonde.

Elena's coming closer. Shit, that was _so_ not the plan.

"Damon, give me another chance." She holds out her wrist. "I am going to be a better friend to you. Let me start with this. It's only fair."

"Kiddo, that's like a virgin asking for anal," I tell her with purposeful crudeness. "Come back when you know what you're asking for."

"You let me do it to you," she says, and I am definitely not thinking of all the sexual layers of meaning I could give those words.

"I knew what I was getting into," I say. My shoulders hit the wall behind me before I realize I'm backing up. When did I get to be such a pussy? Am I actually running from Elena? If I wanted to make running useful, I would do it straight out the bathroom door and not stop until I hit the coast.

Her wrist is a lure dangling in front of my hungry mouth. To see if there is any part of her I've missed, a corner I could see that I haven't known before, that she hasn't shared with me. The atavistic, masculine thrill of taking her, part of her becoming part of me. Having her in my veins.

It feels like she's there already.

"I want to know what it felt like to you," she says, her eyes too innocent to be fastened on my mouth the way they are.

I'm a fucking gonner.

And as usual, if I'm going to go, I'm going to go big.

She's so close already that she's practically inside my shirt, and it is so effortless to sweep her glossy hair back from the curve of her neck, to feel my cock and fangs lengthen in unison, both wanting to sink deep into her.

The devil keeps the hinges on the door to hell well-oiled.

It is the easiest thing in the world to trace her jugular with my tongue, letting her heartbeat give me a drumroll before I pierce her skin, biting as ferociously as I always wanted to because I can't hurt her now.

I take one mouthful of her blood and it goes straight to my head, the strongest drink I've ever had in my long life. It's like tasting God.

If someone were to ask me what was at the core of Elena, what her one keystone attribute was, I would have answered that it was her ability to love. Well, actually, I'd have told them to fuck off with their psychobabble bullshit, but I would have known the answer just the same. I guess I'd just never thought about the implications of that until I tasted it in her.

All the love in my life is focused on one point: Elena. It is _strong_, too strong for comfort, for objectivity, for happiness.

Now, I realize she loves just as strongly, but in every direction. For me, for Stefan, for Jeremy and Bonnie and Matt and Caroline and people she barely knows and people she's never met and people who are dead and gone. She feels all their pain, and she's paralyzed by it. Not by confusion. Not by indecision. By the fact that she can't hurt anyone, and it's impossible not to. If you make one person happy, it often hurts another. In her life, this happens every day, all day long, and it's bleeding her dry.

Her taste is gilding my tongue but all that love, all that guilt and pain scares the shit out of me.

I push her away. "How do you _live_ like that?" I ask her, horrified.

Hurt registers in her face.

"What?" she whispers. She's not used to rejection, not from me. Not from anyone, probably.

"Nothing. That's enough. We're even. Now run along back to your little boyfriend." I shoo her with one hand.

I didn't want to understand. I never really _wanted_ to understand why she stayed with Stefan.

She tilts her head, trying to figure me out. Finally she says, "I know you're upset about me becoming a vampire, and because Ric is gone."

"You don't know shit," I snap. I'm raw from what I saw in her, and because giving her my blood is like showing up naked in somebody's room and getting thrown the fuck out. Only it isn't your body that is naked. It's your soul.

I can't even blame her. If the reactions of everyone in my life are any indication, my body's a lot prettier than my soul.

She apparently has decided it was her comment about Ric that set me off. The girl is perpetually clueless.

"I'm so sorry, Damon," she says with misguided gentleness. "You are going to have to move on, open up to let other people fill his chair eventually."

Fortunately, that makes me mad for a whole new reason.

"You don't get it, Elena. When somebody dies, their chair is always empty. Forever. That's what it means." I shove the words at her brutally. "And putting flowers on it doesn't fill it, and neither does getting a bigger fucking table so that you can end up with more empty fucking chairs. Don't lecture me about death. I've known more of it than you ever will."

As soon as the last sentence leaves my mouth, I realize she's a vampire now, and she is going to know every nasty truth about death that I know. She doesn't even have the grace to only care about a select few, like I did. She cares about everyone. The six deaths of people close to her in the last year are only the appetizer in an infinite and disgusting buffet.

I won't apologize. She's going to have to get stronger if she's going to make it. That means Stefan and I need to man up and stop shielding her from everything. But, God, the things she's going to have to see now. The things she's going to have to do.

"Oh, Elena." I didn't mean to say that, didn't mean to say anything.

Her eyes soften at my tone and she reaches for me. I don't know what she intends to do and I am not going to find out. My exit from this sideshow is far, far overdue. I turn so her hand misses me, as if her every cell is full of toxic vervain.

I'm going to have to wash the taste of her tragic blood out of my mouth with a truckload of whiskey.

"I hope that blood settles your poor widdle tummy." I mock, every part of my body feeling poisoned by the last hour of my shitty life. "Oh wait, you've never been able to stomach _anything _about me."

Including the fact that I'm a vampire, and it is so much harder for her to hide her opinion now that she hates herself for being one too. I slam the door behind me too hard and the doorframe cracks apart. I leave it behind, just so much more collateral damage.

My self-destructive streak used to be a lot more fun.

* * *

_Author's Note: Man, I feel like I should buy Damon a puppy after this scene. Ouch! Don't worry, the CWS writing team is nowhere in evidence, and my happy ending will not be thwarted! _

_Push the button to follow this story if you don't want to miss the next chapter. There should be 2-3 more coming, but you have Karolina94 to thank for talking me into posting this one right away. _


	2. Confession

_Author's Note: The response to this story has been really gratifying- I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it. Thanks to latbfan, for doing a brilliant and much-needed beta on all of the rest of the chapters, in record turn-around time, with a migraine. You're amazing!_

* * *

**ELENA POV**

* * *

When Damon leaves, I know I should go after him but I can't think of how to even start to fix everything between us. Instead I leave the Grille at vampire speed so I don't have to face anyone or explain the broken door. If anybody saw us go in together, it will fuel gossip for about the next thirty years.

When I'm in my car, I slump against the steering wheel. Wow. What the hell was that?

That's not how you should feel about your boyfriend's brother. What do I feel for Stefan that can even start to compete?

I should have an answer to that question. I made my choice. It's unfortunate that it was rushed by thinking they were both about to die, but it was still a choice. Now that I'm a vampire I have to live with it forever.

The thought makes my hands shake so hard that I don't start the car yet, because I can't trust myself to drive safely.

I absorbed so many things along with Damon's blood that my head is whirling like a snow globe after a good shake, everything settling back down but in all different places than before.

The punishing clarity of it cuts through all my defenses and my stomach twists at the worst of my realizations.

I love them both.

I _am_ Katherine.

Worse, so much worse, I want them both to love me. I know that makes me a terrible person, and that's why I have never thought about it like this before.

I love them in totally different ways, which I've always taken to mean that one is real love and the other isn't and I just need to figure out which is which. It probably isn't that simple, but it doesn't matter anymore. Because today, for the first time, there's something I can do about it.

I text Stefan to meet me at my house, because I don't want Damon to have to face either of us right now.

Stefan's cheerful when he shows up. He's been more lightheartedly lately, and it only occasionally seems forced. His smile is gentle as always.

"Hey," he greets.

"I need to tell you something, Stefan." I don't even wait for his reaction before I plunge in. I have sort of a habit of avoiding confrontation and it would be better to not give myself an out.

"Damon shared his blood with me."

"He _what_?"

"I can't keep animal blood down, Stefan," I say quickly, not wanting him to blame Damon. "I'm afraid to try to feed off people, you know that. Vampire blood is the only other option. He was trying to help."

"No, Elena," Stefan says. "He wasn't. Vampire blood is even less nutritious than animal blood. I've never heard of anyone except Michael doing it, and it might have only worked because he is an Original."

My forehead wrinkles. "What?"

"Damon must have done it just to get closer to you," Stefan says on a sigh. "Or to piss me off. Probably both, knowing him. Goddamn it!" He turns away, pacing across the living room.

"Stefan, why haven't we ever done that? Shared blood, I mean?"

I can't pretend I don't know how intimate an act it is, now that I've done it. We're the ones who are dating. If there are special, intimate vampire acts, it is Stefan who should be introducing them to me, not Damon.

"I don't think you understand what it actually _is,_ Elena," Stefan says, eyeing the kitchen. "I need a drink. You don't have anything here, do you?"

"Damon keeps a couple bottles of scotch in the cupboard over the refrigerator," I offer, and then wince. That was probably not the right thing to say just now.

Stefan's lips press tightly together at the implications of this, but he gets a glass anyway and reaches for the cupboard door. I refuse to apologize.

Stefan downs an inch of scotch as a warm-up and asks neutrally, "What did his blood taste like to you?"

"That's um, personal," I say inadequately.

I owed it to Stefan to tell him I did it, but what happened between Damon and me is maybe the most private moment of my life.

Stefan laughs humorlessly. "I bet it is."

"If you're so jealous, why have you never offered?" I ask, impatient with his response.

"Because you were _human, _Elena," he says with more acid in his tone than he can normally muster while on the animal diet. "I'm sure I don't have to explain to you the problem I would have had with that."

Stefan finishes the drink and pours another.

"I'm a vampire now," I point out. "We've been alone in the woods for days."

"Look, Elena, blood sharing is the most intimate act vampires can engage in. More than sex, more than…anything. It's similar when we take blood from a human, but to take it from another vampire magnifies the effects several fold."

"What exactly are the effects?" I ask him guardedly. I think I have it pretty much figured out, but I want to hear his interpretation.

He closes his eyes. "It's your soul. Your blood is the essence of who you are, what makes you unique. What you think, feel, believe. What you love and hate about yourself. What you don't know or ignore about yourself. It's all in there and nothing is hidden."

I remember Damon's eyes as he offered his hand to me, desire and fear and worry and ferocious energy. What an incredible risk for someone who rarely said what he truly felt, who disguised everything in layers of sarcasm and deflection. What a terrifying act of deliberate vulnerability.

"So which is it?" I ask him. "Are you afraid of what I'll see in you, or afraid of what you'll see in me?"

Stefan is very still, in the manner of a cornered animal. I know he's not going to answer me.

I pull out a stool and sit at the kitchen island.

"It's not something vampires just do. Is it?" I ask. "It's not like making out, or sex. It's not a step in a relationship."

Stefan shakes his head.

"So why would he do that?" I say, half to myself.

"Because he's finally hurt enough to play dirty," Stefan bursts out. "He's known me longer than you have, Elena. He has allowed me to pretend I was the _good_ brother this entire time and now he's calling my bluff!" The repulsion in his voice when he says the word 'good' stings my ears.

The glass shatters in his hand and he doesn't even seem to notice. His handsome face is ruined by fear and anguish.

I reach for him, but he backs away from me.

"Stefan, we've all done things we regret," I tell him. I think if he hit me it would hurt less than seeing him like this, to know that he really believes these things.

His laugh is an ugly, hopeless thing. "When we transition, everything is so amplified that the truth comes out very quickly. As soon as you knew what had happened, your first thought was for Matt. When Damon first woke up, he wasn't going to complete the transition. He was ready to die rather than live without the woman he loved. Rather than kill to survive."

He stalks closer now, as if he's pushing his version of the truth on me, forcing me to accept his evil.

"When _I_ transitioned, I killed my father, and then a barmaid. After that, I didn't waste an instant in disregarding Damon's choice, his morality and his ultimate right to choose his own destiny. I forced blood down his throat, forced this life upon him."

He's crying now, the tears catching in the emotionally wrenched lines of his face. "You and Damon are more alike than we ever were. Your transition proved that, once and for all, and I was so selfish that I didn't say _anything_ when it seemed like you still wanted to be with me. Instead, I pretended to be something I'm not because I knew if I kept my mouth shut, I could have you for just a little longer."

I can't handle his pain. I put my arms around him, and he tries to push me away but I'm stronger now and I won't let him. I hold him as tightly as my new muscles allow, forcing him to accept the comfort. I don't even know where to start to relieve his terrible burden. When I asked him to come over, I knew he'd be upset about the blood sharing but I had no idea it would uncover feelings in him like this.

"Stefan, I don't love you because I'm _stupid_," I tell him. "I love you because you are an amazing person and yes, I am well aware of what you've done. I never stopped loving you, even when I wasn't sure I should still believe in you."

He ducks his head roughly against his shirt sleeve to get rid of the tears and breaks my hold on him.

"Really, Elena? Because that's not what it feels like to me. Something has changed, hasn't it?"

I don't know what to tell him. "It has nothing to do with my opinion of you, Stefan. You hate yourself for what you've done so much that you can't imagine anyone seeing past that, but they do._ I_ do, and Damon does, and so do all of our friends. They still trust you, Stefan, still care about you and we all know exactly what happened to you when you were gone."

"Not what happened to me, Elena," he corrects stubbornly. "I did it. I did those things."

"I know you did. And I _hate_ that those people are all gone forever," I say, tears jumping to my eyes. "I won't lie to you about that. I'm young, I know, but I've seen a lot of death and I know too much about what death really means to take it lightly."

I grab the scotch bottle and take an impulsive drink. It doesn't burn as much as it used to when I was human. There must be a little of Damon's influence in the Scotch, because I have a sudden flash of Machiavellian brilliance.

"Stefan, how did you kill your father?"

"With a stake! God, why would you even want to hear about that?"

"Why did you have a stake, Stefan? Your father was human."

"I didn't. He had it," Stefan mutters, taking the bottle back from me. We're really such an impressive pair of highly functioning adults, drinking straight from the bottle in the middle of the day.

"He was trying to kill you."

"Again."

I wince at that. That's right. Katherine's blood had brought them back, but it was their father who'd killed them. Shot them both. I can't even imagine the horror of knowing that the person who should love you most in the world hated what you were. Hated it enough to murder you. No wonder Damon and Stefan were both so haunted.

"What did you do when you realized he was dying?" I asked him. I already knew his father had fallen on the stake by accident. Damon told me months ago. It wasn't really a murder, not really. The next part was just a guess.

"I tried to heal him with my blood, but he hated vampires enough that he wouldn't even take that. Just like Caroline's dad."

"So he died by accident, and you tried to heal him." I raise my eyebrows. "That's hardly evil, Stefan."

"The barmaid wasn't an accident," he points out.

"Stefan, you were alone and scared and you had no one to help you. Anybody would have succumbed to the bloodlust in that situation. Anybody. Remember, I know what it feels like now."

"Damon held out until I shoved the blood right next to his nose," Stefan said, his eyes vague, broken.

"But he didn't hold out forever," I say gently. "Stefan, when Damon offered me his blood today, I thought he was doing it to save me from feeding on a human."

"Don't bother defending him, Elena. I know exactly what he did and why."

"I'm not talking about Damon. I'm talking about me. Tell me the truth. Would you have been angry with me if I knew all about blood sharing and what it meant and I chose to do that with Damon instead of you?"

His eyes flare with shock as if I slapped him. "Of course I would have been angry. I told you, it's worse than if you would have slept with him."

"But it's not quite as bad as if I did it on purpose, is it? Since I didn't know what it meant?" I'm hoping he agrees with this part.

He takes another drink, but he doesn't argue with me.

"You didn't kill those people because you liked to kill them, Stefan," I argue. "You got caught up in the cycle of bloodlust, and you'd promised Klaus that you would do whatever he wanted if he would save Damon. I bet you didn't even choose who to kill. I bet Klaus did that."

"I still killed them. I'm not a sword, I'm a person. I can't do the killing and pretend to be an innocent tool."

"Intent matters. It changes everything. If I slipped up and killed a human, you would feel terrible for me and for the person, but you wouldn't hate me. You don't hate Caroline or Damon."

He looks up at me, those sensitive green eyes seeing the truth of all of this. "You're leaving me for Damon, aren't you?"

I have no idea how he figured it out from this conversation. I haven't even thought about it in so many words. Until he said that, I hadn't realized that my decision is made.

It's crazy how calm and sure I am. Like taking Damon's blood twice was the magic cure for all the confusion, for everything that was screwed up in my life. Once to become a vampire and once more to see the truth.

"No. I'm not." I reach across the broken glass on the table and take his hand.

"I'm in love with Damon, and I'm going to tell him that. But I'm not leaving you for him, or him for you."

He's not going to like a lot of this, but there are things that need to be said between us, and it would be wrong to let him go today before I at least try to explain all the wrong things I've done for the right reasons.

"Stefan, we never should have dated. I just always felt right with you, like you were supposed to be part of my life. I figured if we weren't just friends, we should be dating. Those were the only two choices. Even after I realized that wasn't necessarily true I stayed with you for a lot of reasons, none of them bad. I was happy to be with you, to share that part of your life, to be close to you."

"What is it, Elena? If it's not romantic love, then what is it? Why can't we stay away from each other? Why did you try so hard to save me if you don't love me?" he asks, frustrated.

"I _do_ love you, that's what I'm trying to tell you. I love you like…family."

As soon as I say it aloud, it sounds right. It's_ not_ like being friends. That's been the problem all along. I knew I felt way more for Stefan than that, but it isn't the passion I feel with Damon that sucks the air out of my lungs when he's near. Stefan grounds me, calms me. Being with Damon makes every part of me burn more brightly when I'm with him. Not always in a good way, but in a way that makes me feel alive.

"I feel like you are a huge part of my life, not because of our history but because you belong there. It's this acceptance that I don't have to even think about. Come on, Stefan, you have a brother. You know exactly what I mean. If we'd been born into the same family, it would make perfect sense."

"Elena, I respect the theory you're trying for here," he says skeptically, "but we had sex. Good sex."

Even this isn't enough to shake my certainty. "Sure we did. Teenagers and vampires are known for overactive hormones, and we aren't_ really_ related, Stefan. I guess it doesn't make a ton of sense. But it was fun, and we loved each other, and I'm not going to apologize for that. But it doesn't mean we were meant to be together."

He's not buying it, but I can't tell if it is because he thinks anything but romantic love is inadequate, or if he doesn't believe I can forgive his sins if he can't.

"Look, I can prove it," I tell him. "Take my blood. It shows what you feel, doesn't it? Not just who you are. In theory, I can lie to you all day long, but my blood can't."

"Elena, if you really can't keep down animal blood, you're not well. I shouldn't take your blood."

That is a pretty weak argument. He wants to, I can tell.

"I don't feel great, but I'm ok. I'll feed soon. This," I gesture between his chest and mine, "is way more important."

He squeezes my hand. "Only if you take mine, too."

I tilt my head at him in silent question.

"You could believe the best of anyone, Elena. I'm sick to death of lying to you about who and what I am. At this point, it would be a relief to know that you really know who I am, even if you hate me for it."

I regard him in silence for a long moment, so many things passing between us.

He held me through finding my true parents, and losing them, showed me how to keep going despite my grief. He's attacked me and saved me and sacrificed himself over and over again. Helped my friends and built a life here. Shared his family and his past and his fears and sorrows with me. Discovered witches and werewolves and curses that threatened our happiness in dozens of ways. He's made love to me and watched me die. Some husbands and wives that have lived sixty years together haven't seen the things that we have.

We have nothing to hide from each other.

"How? Do we do it at the same time?" I ask.

"Take mine first," he says. Because he still thinks I'm going to reject him.

"Where?" I ask him. "It's your choice."

He holds out his wrist to me. I take his hand and hold the veins in his wrist against my cheek for a moment. "I love you," I tell him, wishing he understood. I can't blame him. Today is the first day I've felt like _I_ understood.

I fight the urge to hide my face when my canines spring free and veins trace a latticework out from my eyes. I'm not ashamed of this. I will not be ashamed of what I am, what he is.

I bite Stefan.


	3. Communion

**ELENA POV**

* * *

If Damon was a contradiction, Stefan is a collision. I don't flinch, because I'm prepared for that. I didn't lie. I know who he is.

It is clearer this time, not the tumble of sensation it was with Damon because my mind is ready this time to recognize all that I'm receiving.

I'm prepared for the hellish darkness of the Ripper, but it's a little different than I expected. It isn't angry. It's inviting.

It is the tempting allure of total freedom through chaos and destruction. The power of answering to nothing and no one. Of shrugging off guilt forever and letting your whims become the weather that defines your world.

Yet his presence feels exactly the same as it always has to me: peaceful, empathetic, comforting.

The wonder isn't that he gets peace out of this whirlwind of potential evil, because he doesn't. He gives it.

It comes through him so easily that it seems to sometimes escape his notice entirely. He's absolutely fascinated by goodness: the divine, altruistic, nurturing side of everything. By righteousness. Forgiveness. But even when he's doing good, he doesn't give himself credit for it.

He watches for the good in everything, in everyone. It feels like…me.

It's such a surprise that I almost pull away, but it's mesmerizing. It's me, it's familiar, but twisted by his perception. Brighter, better than I see myself, totally interwoven with his concept of all that is noble and sweet. It's embarrassing.

To him, I'm redemption, forgiveness. His last chance to find a loophole away from what he sees as the inescapable burden of his sins.

It's not me he needs at all. It's God.

I'm sidetracked from this by Damon, swirling through everything else like he is the air in this particular atmosphere. Jealousy, admiration, exasperation, pride. Stefan hates and adores everything that his brother is, wants to beat the hell out of him and would never let anyone else touch him.

From there, I'm caught by the dizzying spiral of what he feels about Damon and me together. Jealousy, of course. Anger and self-hatred that he's not enough for me. Resignation, because he knows everything that is good about Damon and of course, _of course _I would love him better. How could I not? Embarrassment, about something vaguely sexual, and…looks. Because women always look at Damon first.

Disgust that my goodness should be tainted by contact with all Damon's sins. A lurking conviction that he despises, that Damon and I are a perfect match.

Suddenly, I realize I've been lost in Stefan for hours, lifetimes. I pull back and stare at him in horror, hurriedly wiping my mouth.

"Did I take too much? Are you okay? How long have I been feeding? Stefan, are you alright?"

I have no memory of it, not a hint, but we're in the living room, on the couch, wound around each other like vines.

He opens his eyes sleepily. "I'm fine, Elena. You weren't feeding very long at all."

I lose time again for a while, his eyes on mine. It's not like staring, or even the result of chemistry, like Damon and I get caught up in all the time. It's more like having a long conversation without words and I'm happy to be absorbed in him for a little longer. I would have to talk for decades to explain everything I saw in him, and I'm glad he doesn't ask. I feel like he knows, like he can see it written on me. After that, how can there be any secrets between us?

That makes me remember that I didn't actually give him my blood and I offer my wrist wordlessly. He takes it and I can see his automatic struggle with all the things blood means to him, all the things I mean to him.

I remember suddenly, and my hand clenches. He stops and looks at me questioningly.

"I should warn you," I realize, feeling uncertainty creep in under the glow from feeding on him. "Damon took some of my blood. I made him, he didn't want to. He took just a little bit and sort of threw me away from him like he saw something really terrible. So, I mean, I don't know if you want to…" My voice trails off. I had forgotten about that in all my worry about Stefan.

Stefan bends his head in that confiding way he has. "It could have been a lot of things, Elena. I'm sure it wasn't anything bad. He loves you. Everyone does."

I look down. "I'm just saying. It's up to you."

"Well, if you are comfortable with it, I am," he says.

I nod, pushing my wrist into his hand again. It's only fair, after he bared everything to me, that I do the same.

I'm sort of in his lap, our legs all tangled together, my shoulders leaning half against him and half against the back of the couch. I settle a little closer, laying my head next to the crook of his neck.

I can feel it in his body when his fangs sharpen and I have an involuntary flashback to him feeding off of me under Klaus's compulsion. Fear and betrayal smashes through my relaxation, but it fades again in an instant under the weight of my knowledge of him.

He pierces my flesh and it hurts for a second, and then starts to feel good. My fingertips curl to touch his cheek fondly.

When Damon took my blood, it was over so fast I couldn't even form an impression. I think I expected it to be electrifying, consuming, like it was when I tasted their blood. Except I'm on the other side of the equation now and it is _Stefan. _So it feels comforting, like curling up in a velvety pile of blankets and kittens.

I float in the sensation, wondering what Stefan is seeing. I wonder if I could taste the truth in my own blood. I should ask Damon, but I can't worry about that right now. I feel too lovely to worry about anything.

If I ever have to die again, I want it to be like this. Cradled and warm, content.

Stefan has long since stopped feeding when I become aware of our surroundings again. We're holding each other, arms and legs all wound together in a way that shouldn't be comfortable but is. I don't feel any particular need to move or speak, so I don't. I hope he found the same peace that I did. I'd give anything for him to feel that.

Finally I ask, "Why have we been doing anything but _that_ since I turned?"

Stefan laughs, a rich and untroubled sound and it does my soul good to hear it.

"I have no idea. Actually, I've never done it before."

I frown. "Really? Why not?"

"I didn't know. Damon was the one who told me about it, after my binge in the 20's. He told me it was better than opium to have your blood taken by another vampire. I am not sure he took blood_ from_ them very much, or if he did he didn't mention it." Stefan chuckles. "Damon experimented with lots of things in the twentieth century. He_ loved_ the 60's. He recommended some things, not others. I didn't try any of them. Figured if my reaction to blood was any indication, I shouldn't risk anything else addictive."

Stefan toys with my hair while he talks. We've never had a conversation like this before. He always has such deep emotional reactions to whatever we talk about, but right now we're both totally blissed out and he speaks easily, lightly. He can have my blood daily if it makes him feel better. I wonder if Damon would kill me for offering. I still have to try to fix things with Damon. I push that thought away, unwilling to give up this feeling just yet.

"So you never got to do this at all? Not even with Rebekah?" I ask, nuzzling my head against his shoulder. Nothing about this feels awkward or sexual at all. This is the best way to break up_ ever_. Blood-sharing-enforced mutual respect and love. "That's sad."

"When Rebekah and I dated, we weren't really in a sharing souls kind of relationship," Stefan says with amused understatement. "I thought about asking Lexie but it never seemed like the right time, and then she met her mate, and then it seemed really inappropriate, so I never did."

When I notice that the angle of light through the windows has changed, I lift my head.

"I should go. Things didn't end well between Damon and me this morning. I need to talk to him."

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. They're going to need a new door at the Grille, though." I cringe when I realize they need a new _bathroom _door. I wish Stefan didn't have to find out that detail, but town gossip will probably pass it along sooner rather than later.

We untangle ourselves reluctantly and stand up. I finger-comb my hair, and we sort of meander to the door. I catch sight of the broken glass in the kitchen and dismiss it as unimportant. Jeremy is staying at Matt's tonight anyway. I open the front door and pause.

"Are you going to be okay?" I ask Stefan, making an attempt to be serious.

"Yeah," he says easily. "Of course."

I look at him, a smile spreading across my face, one eyebrow raised, and he starts to laugh.

"We're like a couple of junkies!" I giggle, and that really sets us off, until we're both leaning against opposite sides of the doorframe, cracking up laughing in a way we haven't together in… I don't even remember how long.

He smiles at me, so lighthearted I want to just wrap him up and keep him like this forever, like a living photograph.

"No, I don't know." he runs his fingers through his hair and looks out the open front door. "I'm going to need some time. I expect when this wears off I'm going to be really angry. After that, I don't know. Thank you for today. I feel…different. I know that sounds inadequate, but after you've lived as long as I have, any change at all is kind of a miracle."

I nod, and hope that means what I think it means. If nothing else, I'm glad he knows I love him, that I really do forgive him. That someone can. That he should, too.

"I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Okay," he says with his gentle smile and heads down the steps. He stops on the top one and says, without turning around, "I won't be back to the boarding house until tomorrow. Just so you know."

And then he keeps going. But his shoulders aren't bent, hunched against the world as they usually are.

I lean against the doorframe and watch him go, the smile slowly fading from my face.

* * *

_Author's Note: Coming up next, three chapters of uninterrupted Delena…_


	4. The Door

**ELENA POV**

* * *

By the time I show up at the boarding house, all the blissful lassitude from the blood sharing has worn off in the face of my worry about Damon and what on earth I'm going to say to him. I almost convince myself to wait for another day, but if Stefan already knows that's not such a good idea.

I go to the door, but I'm too nervous to let myself in this time. I knock instead.

Damon opens the door and looks thunderously angry within a quarter of a second of recognizing me.

"What? What else can you possibly be here for?" he spits at me.

"The truth," I tell him weakly. It might be too late, but I owe it to him to tell him.

"You want the truth?" he shouts. "The thing I want to give you is the _only _thing you don't want to take from me. That's the fucking truth!"

He slams the door in my face, but this one is sturdier than the one at the Grille and it doesn't break.

My hands rise and press against the wood as if possessed by desires of their own, as disbelieving as my mind that the period at the end of our sentence is this unyielding door.

I sink to the ground, curling against the wood because it as close as I'm going to get to him. I wish I could stop crying. I hate crying. I hate all of this.

"Don't cry on my porch, Elena. That's low." I can hear his voice through the door.

I hear him sigh, the sound closer to my ear now, as if he is sitting on the floor, leaning against the other side of the door.

"You know, if I thought you were a sadist, I would buy you a leather corset and a whip and tell you to have at me, but this? What the hell is this, Elena?"

I bite my lips and swallow my tears, taking deep breaths until I can trust my voice.

"I'm sorry, Damon. It's just that I didn't understand about blood sharing and once I did, the truth of everything just sort of slapped me in the face. It's sort of impossible to ignore when you taste it in someone's blood."

"Taste what?" he asks, with the same voice as someone would use to ask what kind of dead creature you'd just found in their sock drawer.

"How I really feel about you and Stefan."

"Got that memo. Now get off my porch."

"I love you, Damon," I blurt out.

The door has no reaction to this.

"By the time I realized how I felt about you, I was already with Stefan and I couldn't do anything without hurting one of you. So I did what I always do. I let you play the bad guy because I couldn't, Damon, and I'm so, so sorry."

I hear a quiet thunk. It is just above the level of my head as I lean against the door, so I bet it was his head, coming to rest against the wood. I press my hand to the door, wishing I could feel him through it.

My mind is spilling over with words. With truths, explanations, apologies for all the wrong things I've said in the past. But I've said the only thing that matters and the door between us is still closed.

"Where did you go when you left the Grille?"

I bite my lip. Sometimes I wish Damon were a little dumber. "I called Stefan and asked him to come over."

"Yeah," Damon says in a casual voice that feels like a hammer breaking my bones. "Blood sharing is a lot more fun when you can enjoy all the benefits."

"It wasn't like that."

"You thought you could do a blood test to see who your soulmate was," he says sarcastically.

"You don't understand, Damon. You've always known exactly what you wanted. You can't imagine what it is like on the other side of that."

He doesn't answer. I didn't really expect him to.

"He tasted like-,"

Damon cuts me off, his voice climbing so I could have heard him through ten oak doors. "What makes you think I would ever want to hear a fucking word of that?"

"Short version, I promise. He tasted like family, like my friend. That's how he's always felt. I just didn't know there was anything out there like what I feel for you, and once I did, it was too late to go back without being too much like _her,"_ I get it all out before he can stop me.

"You are so _young_, Elena." His voice is trembling with rage. "A thoughtless toddler who likes to build towers of blocks just because you love the sound they make when you knock them back down. You want to be a good friend to me? You want to do something for me?"

"What can I do?" I whisper.

"You can leave me the fuck on the ground this time."

"You're not going to open the door, are you?" I ask, the last of my hope slipping away.

"Not a chance."

This is the answer I've earned. And he's right. I should leave him to whatever peace he can find. I just can't accept that after everything we've been through, it's come to this.

I may have been thoughtless. But I'm also desperate.

"I know I deserve for you to hate me, Damon. I know I deserve that, because I was stupid and cowardly. I made the wrong choice, and I made us live with it for a year. Please don't make us live with it forever."

The door doesn't respond. I can picture him slouched on the other side, the pain in his eyes since there's no one to see. I almost yank the door open, but it is his choice. I have to let him make it.

I grind the insides of my cheeks between my teeth, swallowing the sob my body is convulsing around. Even crying is different as a vampire. As a human the sob would eventually break, my body gasping for air. As a vampire, my chest curls into itself in a collapse that can go on forever.

There's no sound from the other side of the door and I owe it to him to take my meltdown somewhere else. I set my body back on top of my legs and point them toward my car. I'm not sure if I'm going to make it. I can barely find the door handle through my tears, and then I can't find it at all because Damon's body is in front of it.

His hands are cradling my face, because Stefan always hugged me, but Damon has always wanted to see me and touch me at the same time. He was never satisfied with one or the other.

My hands come up and cover his and he looks like he's about to bolt. "I've got you," I tell him fiercely. "I won't let you down. Not ever again."

* * *

_Author's Note: If you are liking/loving/hating the story, or have any comments, please leave a review- I love to read them!_


	5. Native Language

**DAMON POV**

* * *

I want to believe her and kiss her and fuck her on the hood of her car right here in the driveway. I don't move.

Instead, I ask an incredibly stupid and self-destructive question. "What did you see in my blood?"

Elena smiles tenderly, still wiping tears from her face. "You."

This doesn't make any sense. "How did that change anything? You already knew me."

"Yes, but…" she seems to be searching for the words. "Sometimes it isn't enough for something to be true. Sometimes you need to hear it at the right time too. Or maybe it just got too strong to ignore because I'm a vampire."

I narrow my eyes a little, unconvinced.

"Damon, I only thought I'd last another year or two before somebody killed me. I didn't want to be remembered as a fickle bitch and I thought it would be worth it, to save Stefan, to make sure he'd be okay." She searches my eyes.

"To make sure you'd be okay. I knew if I could keep him going through everything Klaus did to him, you'd at least have each other after I was gone. If I was selfish and tried to steal what little time I could with you, I didn't think you and Stefan would be able to get along after I was inevitably killed. When I became a vampire, it changed everything."

I wish that didn't make sense. I wish I would have stayed behind the door. I can't trust myself out here, where I can see her.

"I saw other things too," she tells me. "How you felt about me."

She starts blushing.

I know what that means. This is more familiar ground for me.

"What else did you see, Elena?" I ask, deliberately lowering my voice.

She tries to pull her hands away. I let them come away from my face but keep our fingers woven together. She's really red. Who knew vampires could blush so brightly?

"What did you see in my blood?" she asks instead.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," I bargain.

She glares at me. I grin.

I like teasing Elena. This declaration stuff makes me suspicious because, yeah, we always end up back at Stefan, but flirting is a game I know how to play.

"You first," she says and I see uncertainty in her beautiful face.

I touch her cheek, caught with tenderness I know I shouldn't show.

"Why the worry?"

Her hands squeeze anxiously in mine. "You didn't take much blood," she says finally. "You pulled away. I could only stop myself because I was worried about you, that's how good it was."

"You taste amazing," I tell her. I'm doing _such _a great job of holding out so it won't gut me when she changes her mind again.

She gives me a look. "That's cheating, Damon."

I make a dismissive face. "You're intense, that's all. Serious guilt complex."

"Too intense for you?" she says with the most enchanting mixture of incredulity and worry.

"Intense in a caring-for-everyone-and-everything kind of way," I tell her. "It's terrible. It's like where I'd be if there were about fifteen of you. Sleep-deprived and totally nuts." I smile at her to soften the blow. "Really, really sexually frustrated."

"Like you even remember what it's like to be sexually frustrated," she bursts out.

I look up and down her gorgeous body, noticing that she changed into a skirt at some point since we left the Grille. I wonder if my blood got on her clothes. "Oh, I think I might recall," I drawl. "Your turn."

She looks upset. "You're trying to distract me with sex. Because you don't believe me."

"Elena, is it really hard to get why being around you would make me think about sex?"

"No, of course not. But it's also not hard to understand why I'd love you."

She catches my chin with her soft little fingers and her touch wreaks havoc on my ability to pretend I don't care that she's a bipolar baby vampire and she can decide she feels a different way about me every fifteen seconds while meaning it with every scrap of her being.

"When you took my blood, you must have felt it," she whispers. "How could you not? It feels like you're all that's in my veins, how could you not see yourself?"

I laugh. "Elena, you love every squirrel in the forest. I got that out of a teaspoon of your blood."

She's looking at me in a way I can't remember her ever looking when she was human, those soft brown eyes fired with a focused intensity that's all new.

"Take more," she orders.

This is the look of Elena knowing what she wants. No wonder it's unfamiliar. She grabs me by the front of the shirt and flips us, slamming me against the car and her body into mine.

God, she's hot. Why am I resisting?

I'm buried in her neck before I take another breath and I'm not pulling away early this time. She's changed. How is that? Less than a day…or not changed, but more resolute. She's right. I _am_ all that's flowing through her veins.

You don't get pictures in blood, but you get everything else and I'm floating on all her impressions of me: noble, evil, scary and sexy, roughly kind, frustrating and always a little out of her reach. Her blood settling into my body feels like the ring of fine crystal as it announces the toast to come.

I'm only vaguely aware that her back is against the car now and I'm crushing myself against her, high on this concentrated version of _Elena_ and everything she feels for me.

She's clutching at the muscles that line my spine, shuddering with pleasure and it feels like Denver all over again but if Jeremy shows up this time he can buy a ticket to the show because I'm _not_ stopping.

I slow down, just sipping, making it last so I can enjoy all the textures of her personality, the new, sharper edges that I think are from her transition, and the endless, endless love in her.

Too soon, I've taken as much as I should. She still needs to feed properly. I take the last bit of her spilled blood onto my tongue, and press a kiss to the wound, feeling the skin heal under my lips.

My head lies heavily on her shoulder. We're sitting on the ground now, my legs on either side of her hips.

Elena's arms are around me, thin but strong, one of her hands holding my head into her neck and the other one pressing tightly into my back. She never holds me like this unless someone is dying. Rose. Or me.

I don't know what to think, can't process at all. There's a whole lot of beautiful flowing through me, her blood like a drug that glows under my skin.

"It's crazy, isn't it?" She whispers. "I mean, you can know someone loves you, really believe it. But _feeling_ it like that is a whole different experience. Humans never get to do that at all, do they?" She kisses my temple.

I'm torn between lying with her and basking in the sensation of her touch and her blood, and an urge to run away with every scrap of speed I can push out of my body.

This changes everything.

I pull back and look at her like I've never seen her before. I haven't, not the her that loves me.

She smiles tenderly and runs her fingers through my hair. "Hi."

I get up and walk away.

My legs are pretty unsteady, but I would crawl if it meant I could have a whiskey bottle in my hand at the end of this journey.

Elena zips around in front of me as I'm reaching for the doorknob. Fucking vampire speed.

"Damon, I'm trying to do the right thing for once," she says, exasperated. "But you make it really hard when you run away every time you take my blood."

She clenches her little fists and I can see in the movement how hard she's trying not to flash the familiar deer in the headlights look and take off because she can't handle me, can't handle what's between us.

I kiss her, and I make it good because I'm a bastard like that. Because I'm a sucker like that.

With her blood still on my tongue, I'm as shaky as a fourteen-year old girl and it's her hands balled up in the front of my shirt that holds me steady, her scent that spins my head and makes me want to break things. I want to build her a house and steal her away on a boat and throw myself through a window and drink and drink and drink, from people and bottles and anything until I'm safe from what she can do to me.

Maybe I'm the one who can't handle what's between us.

My hands lock around her arms and I hold her back, tearing my lips away from hers. I have the superstitious feeling that every second of pleasure now will translate into hours of pain later and I've already run up quite a tab.

"Jesus, Elena, what are you _doing_?"

"Loving you, goddamn it!" she shouts back in my face. "And so far it's not going so well!"

I've never seen anything so fucked up as us, but I have to laugh at that.

"Well, no shit."

"Why did you chase me for so long if you didn't want to catch me?" she asks, frustration pouring off of her.

I shove a hand through my hair and eye the door to the boarding house behind her. "It's not that, Elena."

"Then what _is _it? You said you weren't disgusted by my blood, but then you just took off again."

That catches my attention and I look back at her to see a tear slip down the curve of her cheek.

I frown and catch the tear on my thumb.

"Nothing disgusted me, Elena. It was-," I shift my weight and drop my hand. "I don't know. A lot to take in."

"I just- you said you loved me all those times, but then you didn't after you took my blood and Stefan told me that vampires see who you truly are in your blood." She's leaking tears too fast for me to stop them now.

"Elena, stop. Take a breath. If you're going to be a vampire, you can't be crying all the time. So take a couple breaths and think about something else."

She takes a shaky breath. "I can't think about anything else right now, Damon, this is kind of important!"

"Come on, Elena, look at me. Do I look like you disgust me?"

"No," she sniffed, her face all crumpled like a little kid. "But you wouldn't want me to _know, _because you'd feel bad!"

I roll my eyes. "Don't give my conscience so much credit. You make me _crazy_, scare me and piss me off and get me horny as hell, but you don't disgust me."

She sniffs. "I make you horny?"

I laugh. "Maybe once you blow your nose." I pull a handkerchief out of my pocket and hand it over.

"No one carries these anymore, you know," she says, and blows her nose.

"Old habit," I tell her and sink down on the front steps. It's been a long fucking day. "Plus, you've got to mop up the blood with something."

I'm trying to figure out how to tell her what I tasted in her without sounding like a total emo pussy.

I can't. So I just go the safe road and stick to what I told her earlier.

"Like I said. You give Stef a run for his money in the self-blame department." I give her a sideways glance and decide to rile her a little bit to get rid of the tears. "You should probably go over there and repeat the blood test to make sure you guys aren't soulmates. 'Cause I think you should probably get married in a catholic church, and spend the rest of eternity regretting _everything_ together."

It works. Elena punches me, a little too hard, and starts laughing. "Oh God, that's so true. That's exactly what we'd do!"

"You'd have had a suicide pact two months in if I wasn't here to play comic relief," I say, leaning back on my elbows to enjoy the sight of her laughing. It's been a little rare lately.

"I know," she says, looking guilty again.

"Stop it or I'll make you say a Hail Mary," I threaten.

She giggles. "You don't even know how to say a Hail Mary."

"Yeah, but I bet you do."

She stops laughing and she's looking too carefully at me again.

"That's not all you saw. I know you saw, or tasted or whatever, how I feel about you."

I rest my elbows against my knees and look at her. She's beautiful, even with tearstains on her cheeks and her eyes a little shadowed from lack of blood. If I were Stefan and loved to talk about my feelings I would probably know what to do now. But I'm not, and I don't.

Her eyes narrow just a touch and I wonder what she thinks she's figuring out about me.

"Make love to me," she whispers.

Her face is an intoxicating blend of confidence and trepidation.

I literally have no brain at all, because I answer that by saying, "Why?"

"Because I love you," she says as if she's having to explain the color of the sky. "Because I want you. Because I want to be with you and I want you to stop looking at me like you're waiting for the other shoe to drop."

What I want to say is that Stefan's going to be really pissed about that when she goes back to him, but I must still have a cell or two rattling around upstairs because instead I drop my eyes to her lips and say, "You want me to make love to you?"

I'm rewarded by her pulse picking up speed, and her eyes widening a little as she nods. I take her hand and pull her to her feet. I duck my head close to her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin and her blood and just a touch of vanilla-peach body wash from her shower this morning.

My self-destructive streak is back on its A-game, for sure.

She's already trembling, but I'm picking up as much anxiety as lust from her, so I don't touch her. Anxiety can be good, because it feeds anticipation. But before I take her, I want her begging for it, not closing her eyes and biting her lip.

Instead, I let my breath caress her skin, knowing that as new as she is to vampire senses, it won't take much more than this. Her chest is already heaving in response, her hands clenched at her sides. I duck to her other side, my lips almost but not quite touching the hollow at the base of her throat, the sensitive tendon that runs from her neck to her shoulder.

I reach out my tongue and touch just the tip of it to her collarbone and she cries out, reaching for me. I catch her hands.

"Not yet." I return her hands to her sides, my thumbs soothing over the veins in her wrists before I let her go.

"What do you want?" I whisper to her, calibrating my voice to the exact vibration that winds her up the fastest.

"I want you to touch me," she gasps.

"Where?"

She squeezes her eyes shut. "Damon…"

I trail the pads of my fingers over her cheeks. "You have all these sensations and feelings, amped to the nines. Why not enjoy some of them?"

"I want to," she protests. "But you're teasing me."

I smile. "Don't pout. You don't play a violin with a sledgehammer, Elena. If you'd stop sleeping with football players, you'd know that."

She opens her eyes to glare at me, but it doesn't last long. I touch my lips to her forehead in the lightest of touches, brushing them across her soft skin. She shivers.

I hover my hands just above her skin, close enough that I bet she can feel the faint heat of them. I draw them down from shoulders over her breasts, pulling back when she leans forward into my touch.

"Not yet," I caution.

She gives me a pleading look that nearly does me in, so I fast forward for her and slide my hands under her skirt. Even before I make contact with her skin, this ratchets up her body temperature by about ten degrees.

I keep the pressure so light that the calluses on my fingertips don't flatten when I touch her, starting on the outsides of her thighs and trailing to the inside, drifting higher.

She swallows hard and shifts her legs apart fractionally, her eyes clenched shut again. I shake my head. She probably has sex in the dark, too. I have so much to teach this girl.

That thought punches me in the gut and I catch myself staring blankly at the front of her shirt. Do we have a future now? Is that what this means, this whole declaration and blood sharing and her chasing after _me_ for once?

"Damon?" she asks shakily, her eyes still closed.

I shake my head. Keep it together, Salvatore. You've got your hands up a pretty girl's skirt. Now is not the time for wondering if you are going steady.

My fingers have reached the bottom edges of her panties, but I refuse to increase the pressure of my touch.

Elena shifts restlessly. If I know anything about vampire skin sensitivity, the top of her head is going to blow off with about three more minutes of this. "Damon, hurry."

"You afraid I'm going to leave you wanting more?" I challenge. "That I'm not going to take care of you?"

"No."

"Then we've got time." And then, because I can't help myself, "Don't we?"

She looks at me, the haze of lust clearing a little for her tender certainty to shine through. "We do. We've got time now, Damon."

I wink at her and slide a finger inside the front of her panties, just teasing the springy curls I find there, not giving her what she really wants.

"Damon, I need you to touch me," she groans. I'm pretty sure it is only guilt that has her going along with this instead of just attacking me like I know she's dying to.

"Do you need it, Elena?" I ask her in a voice that's rougher than it should be. "Because you've driven me crazy a hundred times with just the sight of you. You and I are hot enough together I'm pretty sure I could get you off from across a room if you'd let me."

"Oh, I'd let you," she assures me, her voice higher than normal.

That pleases me, so I step back and tip her chin up. "Give me your panties," I order once she's looking at me.

"Damon, we're on the _front porch,_" she squeaks, sounding very much like the young girl she actually is.

I smile like the devil that I might very well be.

"I thought you wanted me to touch you?"

"Out here?"

I don't respond, just wait for her arousal to overcome her common sense. It takes about a breath and a half, and I definitely hear her cursing under her breath when she bends over to do my bidding. My smile grows.

I hold out my hand and she's blushing like crazy as she puts her panties into my palm. They're purple satin with a lace insert in the front.

"Very nice," I allow as I stuff them into my jeans pocket. "Now look at me."

She obeys immediately, her gaze caught as if I'm compelling her. There's an answering throb in both my chest and my jeans, but I ignore them both.

I added the eye contact specifically for revenge, because of all the times in the past that the connection of her eyes to mine has brought my cock to attention fast enough to almost rip my boxer briefs. Definitely fast enough to be painful.

My fingers take their slow, patient time tracing a path up her world-class legs. So slow that I can feel her steamy heat long before I reach it.

She shifts her legs apart for me, her breaths more like sobs as her hands come up to clutch my shoulders. I don't protest this time, because I'm not all that sure of her balance. Or mine, for that matter.

I start low, gathering moisture so my finger slides slickly and easily up to the top of her.

Her hands are bruising my shoulders but I don't complain. She doesn't look away. God she's amazing, this girl, this woman. This vampire.

She's so wet for this that I don't even have to nudge her folds aside to find the swollen bud that marks exactly the spot she's been wanting me to touch this whole time. She cries out, not even attempting to be quiet.

She has no idea right now where she is now.

If Caroline hadn't sent me a 911 text that Stefan was at her house and might try to stake me later, I would actually be worried at this point about him hearing Elena when he turned into the end of the driveway. But I don't want to think about Stefan right now. I want to think about the exact right amount of pressure to use. Light enough to draw this out as long as possible, heavy enough not to be ticklish.

She's pushing herself against me and I know that no matter what I do, she's not going to make it more than a few more seconds.

But then Elena's hand wraps around my wrist. "Stop."

What?

"Not without you," she breathes.

She grabs me by the front of the shirt and opens the front door. Then we're crashing into the far wall, my shoulders crushing drywall. Elena tears my shirt down the front and her mouth is scorching my bare chest, her tongue blistering my skin. When one of her fangs scratches my belly, I hiss and pull her back to my mouth. This kiss is sharp and tastes of blood.

My hands cup her naked ass and boost her up on me, my hips jerking instinctively. I can feel the heat of her through the jeans I forgot I was still wearing.

Elena's got a hand in my waistband. She yanks with more force than finesse and the fabric shreds but I'm still all tangled in the remnants of denim. You have to get just the right angle to tear the seams and she doesn't know this yet but I am miles from complaining.

I finish the job with one hand, ruining my pants with one jerk and her skirt with another and then angels are singing and pouring gasoline into my ears and the devil is laughing and lighting a match because my cock is naked against her and she is wet and hot and calling my name. _My _name.

I slam her into the wall, biting her shoulder with teeth that I'm fighting to keep blunt. She's holding onto me so hard I can barely get a hand between our bodies to guide myself inside. On the way down my knuckles rake her clit and when I plunge into her, her body is already gripping mine in orgasm.

"Damon!"

She's trusting me to hold her up, both her hands cradling my face as she kisses me, our tongues meeting in the midst of her throaty moans. I want to pause and give her this moment but I can't. My hips are lunging against her, my brain is up in flames, I am way past sexual strategizing.

My hands grip the perfect curve of her ass so I can drive deep, no part of her escaping me.

She doesn't stop devouring my mouth even as she lets go of my face and (God, no wonder I love her) tears her shirt off, naked breasts pressing into my overheated flesh.

My half-snarl half-groan pours into her mouth and I am driving into her ferociously, mercilessly, every second of past frustration pushing me for more, more of this. More of her.

Elena's fingernails rake my shoulders, her strong legs caging me close to her. She's going to break my goddamn pelvis and I am going to love it.

She abandons my mouth for my throat and I think she's going to bite me_. _Please let her bite me. Instead her lips are soft against the corded tendons in my neck. She must hear, must feel the blood roaring through my jugular but as hungry as I know she is, she just kisses it softly.

I spare a hand to tangle in her hair, forcing her head against me. I can feel her inner walls gripping my cock as I push her into another orgasm.

"Bite," I growl through gritted teeth. "Now."

I don't have to ask her twice. Her sweet little fangs are in me, her tongue lapping me up like she could never get enough. The pleasure bursts starbursts behind my eyes, the pull of her mouth drawing velvet lines of contrast inside the firestorm of sex.

My brain flashes white and clean, the head of my penis swelling painfully and then my release crashes through me, leaving nothing behind.

When my senses reboot, the first thing I notice is a pleasant tingling in my scalp. Elena's hand is stroking my hair, my forehead resting against the wall next to her head.

Somehow we are still on our feet, my weight holding her into the wall. I'm still inside of her, my nerve endings humming happily from my head to my heels.

She shifts, pulling back a little and I just know she's about to start in about why we shouldn't have done that. I'm going to dismember half the fucking county if she always-Stefan's me while I'm still inside of her.

Instead, all the love I'd tasted inside of her is shining through her eyes. Every bit of it is focused on me. I freeze like prey. I can't look away or move.

The last time I was this bone-shakingly flat fucking terrified, Elena was dead on a steel slab.

* * *

_Author's Note: If anybody would like to take a guess at the reason behind the name for this chapter, they should leave it in the reviews! Please leave me a review, I'd love to hear your reactions and whatever you liked or didn't like._


	6. Your Wish

_Author's Note: For anyone who left a guess, the last chapter was called Native Language because Elena understands love and emotion and has no trouble talking about it, whereas Damon is more comfortable doing his speaking with sex. Sometimes they have trouble with the language barrier._

* * *

**DAMON POV**

* * *

I need her in my bed, on my sheets. I don't know what to do about that look, but I know where I want her to be while I figure it out.

I pull back from her and swing one arm under her legs, cradling her in my arms. I kick the front door belatedly closed, and leave our shredded clothes in the entry-way. I should clean up before Stefan comes home but I can't let go of Elena right now.

She rests her head against my shoulder, and I carry her up the stairs at human speed, because that seems appropriate.

"Do you remember when you carried me out of the hospital like this?" she asks.

I nod.

"When they hooked me up to that needle, I knew you'd come. I didn't even know where you were or if you knew I had been taken, but I fell asleep without a doubt in my mind that I'd wake up to you." She tilts her head, studying me. "You probably didn't even consider how much you were pissing off the most powerful vampire in the world when you took me out of there."

"Sure I did. I had a fistfight with him in the parking lot before I came in." I hadn't come out of that fight too brilliantly, either, but she didn't need to know that.

She shakes her head, her pink lips compressed. "I don't understand why you risk so much for me."

I carry her into my room, and a tiny bit of the tension in my chest eases. "That's because you haven't been around long enough to realize how weird you are," I tell her casually, laying her down on my bed like it's no big deal. Like it's not the biggest thing I've ever done.

"Shut up," she protests, swatting my chest lightly.

"I'm serious, 'Lena. Come on, who loves the way you do? _Jesus._ And look where that got him," I scoff.

A smile spreads across her face and she rolls her eyes. "Only you could compare somebody to Jesus and make it sound like an insult."

Looking at Elena wearing nothing but knee-high boots is unarguably the best use I've ever found for my eyes, but the primitive part of my brain is flooded with post-sex hormones and it is insisting that she be warm and safe in my cave. Instead of staring, I pull off her boots and tuck the sheets around her.

She's watching me with a bemused expression. The shadows under her eyes are still prominent, even after feeding on both me and Stefan.

"Elena, you've got to feed. I know you're not ready, but we can't put it off anymore."

"I know," she says in a very small voice. She reaches up and grabs my hand, tugging me down on the bed next to her. I kick my boots off, but don't resist.

"Will you come with me?"

"Of course. There's not really any risk in feeding off a human if you're not alone. I just won't let you take too much. "

She nods. "I still wish I didn't have to hurt anybody."

I grimace. "You don't. What the hell has Stef been telling you? If you do it right, you can feed without hurting them, and you don't have to take that much to stay healthy."

"Yes, but I'm still taking, stealing from people for my own benefit without giving anything in return." She doesn't say it, but I know she's still feeling guilty for earlier.

"So give something back," I say lightly. "Problem solved."

She frowns. "What do you mean?"

"You know you can heal the bites with your blood. And yeah, you have to use compulsion to make them forget, but flip that coin over, Elena."

"What?"

"Use your compulsion to do something good," I say with exaggerated patience. "Give them what they need. Self-esteem, confidence, even just a day where they feel really great. Then you're even."

She looks at me like she's never seen me before. "Have you ever done that?"

I smile scornfully and grab a pillow, stuffing it under my head. I don't answer her.

She trails her fingers down my jawline, which makes me want to purr like a cat. "You're kind of amazing, Damon Salvatore."

"Yeah, I'm sure I'm the first one to ever consider it," I say sarcastically. "If Stefan wasn't so busy reveling in his hair shirt he might have to admit that there are some good things about being a vampire."

"It did get me some great jewelry," Elena says.

I touch her new daylight ring, feeling smug. "Like that, do you?"

"It's beautiful."

"Course it is," I say, because I can't resist. "I had it designed for you."

Her eyes go wide. "But Stefan gave it to me."

"'Bonnie made this for you,'" I quote. "I bet Bonnie didn't tell him where she got it from."

"You heard us," she said, looking sad.

"New vampire tip, Elena: if you want privacy, don't have vampire roommates. We need to get you an anklet too. Or a pair of little stud earrings. Some kind of backup for the ring, so people can't steal it every time they want to use you to light a cigarette. The best thing would be a piece of metal they can't see and wouldn't guess. Like a piercing." I nod meaningfully toward her crotch and she gapes at me.

"I can't believe you just said that."

"It would work," I say unrepentantly.

She shakes her head. "Always protecting me. I should have been protecting you."

"From what? I'm a big, bad vampire, remember?"

"From me," she says quietly.

I flop back on the bed, locking my hands behind my head. Lesson learned. Never give Elena Gilbert a guilt trip or she'll never get over it.

"Hail Mary, full of grace," I recite in a mocking falsetto.

When she doesn't smack me, I peek down at her. She's wearing a sexy little smile, and a blush is creeping up her cheeks.

"You have a Catholic fetish?" I wonder.

"No, that is the position you lay in whenever you come into my room. Even in Denver. You push my boundaries by showing up in my bed without invitation and then you lay on your hands so you don't pressure me." She touches my elbow. "It's sweet."

"You're not blushing because you think I'm sweet," I point out, ignoring her interpretation of my body language. "What were you really thinking about?"

"Sweet _and_ sensitive. Careful, Damon, you're crushing your reputation here."

"Ah, deflection. Such a familiar strategy. Try again."

"Fine," she glances down at my stomach, toying with one of the few buttons left on my shirt. Now that's a distraction strategy that might actually work. "I probably owe you a secret or two anyway." She clears her throat.

"When you used to come into my room like that, I would always have the same fantasy when you left."

"About hiding a shotgun in your closet for the next time I tried it?"

She shakes her head, smiling guiltily and not looking at me. I am very interested in this fantasy.

She bites her lip.

"Come on, whisper it to me," I encourage.

She leans up shyly and puts her lips next to my ear. I could keep my own fantasy life pretty busy just on that.

"I used to think about you making me strip."

I pretend to gasp. "Elena Gilbert. I don't even think I'm old enough to be hearing fantasies this dirty."

"It gets worse."

"Let me get some parental guidance on the line for this."

She pinches me. "You're terrible."

"But not in bed…" I tease.

She laughs. "I really can't argue with that, even though it was technically a wall."

Things have been so grim lately that I actually forgot that Elena and I have fun together, when we're not ripping each other's hearts out.

"Come on, get to the dirty parts," I encourage.

"So, I was usually coming out of the bathroom when I found you on my bed and in the fantasy, you wouldn't smile or joke or anything. You'd catch my eyes and compel me to strip for you."

"You have fantasies about me compelling you? I'm calling the morality police."

She looks even guiltier. "You didn't actually compel me, not even in the fantasies. You just looked at me, and I pretended that you compelled me so that I could pretend I had to do it, when really I just wanted to."

"Even in your fantasies you can't admit you actually want me," I shake my head and get up. I'm instantly furious, too pissed to even care I'm losing my chance to take proper advantage of the combination of Elena and my bed.

"I really am a _problem_ for you, aren't I? You just fucking _hate _that you want me."

"I only said that at the Michaelson ball because it would be so much easier to ignore my feelings for you if you didn't feel the same," she protests and then I see something flicker across her face faster even than my eyes can follow. She sits up.

"Why shouldn't I be scared to want you? Stefan's the safer choice. He's easier, more considerate."

"He's a pussy!" I explode, tired to the bone of being compared to my little goddamn brother. "He lets you have your way even when you shouldn't. He doesn't challenge you when you're wrong. He's too scared to get over himself long enough to help you figure out how to be a decent vampire."

"That's because he understands me. He knows I wouldn't be able to live with hurting anyone."

"You wouldn't hurt anyone if he was man enough to be there and support you!" I shout. "He _understands_ you? He understands the cute little teenager he started dating! He doesn't understand shit about the girl who was smart enough to stab Ric to death to save his life. He knows enough to know that you would want him to save Matt first, but not enough to recognize you were doing that to kill yourself to save _us_."

"What, like you could do better?" she shouts back.

"I _have_ been doing better!" I grab an empty glass off the nightstand and hurl it into the bathroom, where it shatters on the tiles. "Who the hell taught you to believe that you could survive and fight back instead of just sacrificing yourself to your enemies? Who taught you to laugh and make bad chili while you were waiting for the next attempt on your life? It sure as fuck wasn't my-sense-of-humor-didn't-survive-my-transition Stefan! And if you would open your eyes for one goddamn second you would realize it doesn't matter whose class ring or necklace or whatever you're wearing. You and I already _have_ a relationship, and you know it is more real than anything you ever had with Stefan."

"Open your eyes, Damon," she says gently. "I'm wearing _your _ring."

It's her tone of voice that clues me in. She's not angry. She's not even actually arguing with me. I've been played.

My eyes narrow. "What the hell?" I lunge at her, but she's too fast now and she zips out the door in a blur of color and satisfied laughter.

I was just accusing Stefan of not being smart enough to see her underlying motivations, but I made the same mistake. She knows I'm no good at mushy, do-you-really-love-me conversations. But I am great at arguing, and I damn well knew I was better for her than Stefan ever would be.

I chase her down the stairs, glorying in the speed and the sound of her laughter. Being a vampire with Elena is going to be fun.

It doesn't take me long to catch her, because I'm older and faster. Or maybe because she wants to be caught.

I pull her to a stop with my arms around her waist and she twists around to steal a kiss.

"You're an ass, Damon. But I love you."

I mock-glare at her, then smile cockily. "I know."

Her face softens, and I know it was hurting her that I didn't believe her.

Enough angst. I am right for her, and I am done letting her try to squirm out of it. She can try to change her mind and always-Stefan me twice a week and I'll just drag her right back into my room and show her how wrong she is. This girl is _mine, _and I am ready to start enjoying the benefits of that. Starting now.

I turn the full force of my compulsion on her, which of course does nothing because she's a vampire. "You're going to go upstairs and act out every second of those compulsion fantasies for me. Even the really dirty parts you were too embarrassed to tell me about earlier."

"Your wish is my command, my love," she says softly, and she kisses me like it is the only thing she's ever wanted to do.

* * *

_Author's Note: I love this story, and I love all your responses to it! Thanks to latbfan for making it a far better piece of writing than it otherwise would have been. I'm sorry that it has ended- this was meant to be a one-shot, but it expanded itself. If you are interested in a longer Delena story, try my other fics "Inevitable" (Season 3) or "Desperate Love" (Season 4)_

_As satisfying as this was to write, my muse and I nearly came to blows over the last few chapters. It is much harder to write Season 4 Damon. This is how the writing process for this last chapter went:_

_Me: Annnd then she loves you._

_Damon: Oh yeah? Wait five minutes._

_Me: Dude, she loves you. What more do you want?_

_Damon: Maybe some pixy dust and a pretty rainbow?_

_Me: I am _not_ writing you another 400 pages of fanfiction! Been there, done that, haven't had anything resembling a life in a month!_

_Damon: Suit yourself._

_Me: Typing madly, watching dishes pile up, actual work pile up, husband giving me dirty looks. Dammit, here I go again. _

_If you enjoyed this story, try my brand-new novel on Amazon. "Becoming Katelyn" by Michelle Hazen._


End file.
